


That Conversation

by deawrites



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Adult Content, Implied/Referenced Incest, M/M, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-28
Updated: 2016-09-28
Packaged: 2018-08-18 10:21:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8158727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deawrites/pseuds/deawrites
Summary: Riding in the Impala with Dean, Sam contemplates the conversation they should have.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Just a quick one shot I was inspired by. Just had to post something quick while I am working on my 2 other major fics, and ignoring new fic ideas. 
> 
> Not beta'd; mistakes all my own, but you can alert me of them if you please. 
> 
> As always thanks to my beautiful muse and wife for being her. 
> 
> Enjoy reading and comments, request, criticisms and compliments welcome.

He was supposed to be sleeping but he couldn’t.  With his head resting upon the passenger window of the Impala using his hoodie as a pillow, he studied his older brother’s profile. Dean was beautiful; there was no other description that suited him; handsome, rugged, butch- were just meaningless adjectives in comparison. Certainly Dean was all those things and more; but beautiful was the most apt description above all. The full lips, high cheek bones, symmetrical proportions of his face; all of it culminating in a perfect storm of beauty.

 

Dean hated to be called pretty, but loathed it more when people said that he had perfect cock sucking lips. While Sam had seen Dean snap at being referred to as ‘princess’, the lividest he ever witnessed his brother become was whenever someone sexualized his mouth.  Sam had other opinions regarding just what Dean’s mouth had been created for, and the attention was focused way further north than his cock.  Sam shifted a little in the seat, so subtly that someone would have to be scrutinizing him closely to witness it. He kept his eyes hooded and watched Dean mouth the words to the song currently playing on the radio, the volume of the station and his voice low in the dimness of the Impala’s cab.  It had to be well after midnight by now but the weariness around Dean’s eyes wasn’t from sleeplessness.

 

The weight both brothers carried was ridiculous, and yet they bore it so others could live in ignorance.  Sam knew it wasn’t just because the Winchesters were a selfless lot; far from; but that they had fallen into the job of hunting and stayed.  Sam wondered what their lives would have been like if their mother hadn’t died; if their father hadn’t shattered into madness and vengeance.  Would his parents still be married? Would they still live in Kansas? What kind of man would John Winchester have been when he wasn’t haunted by the evil of the world? Sam had never known his mother so he couldn’t really speculate much about her interests, but John; John he could. And it hurt to wish that he could have known the man his father was prior to the hunt; or if it had never begun for them.

 

And then there was Dean.  Would he have graduated high school instead of having to settle for taking the GED test? Gone to college? What would he have studied there? What would he have become given the choice to decide? Sam had always wondered but known better than to ask. For Dean the only life he lived was taking care of Sam, protecting his little brother, and hunting. There was no room for anything else so Dean had stopped dreaming long ago. He had stopped wondering about possible alternatives at an early age because ‘ _normal’_ was a luxury he could ill afford.  Sam had been different. To Dean, his little brother was the one that was supposed to get out from under the yolk of hunting and become something great; someone well-adjusted and _normal_.  That intention had quickly burned into ashes when Dean discovered he couldn’t survive without Sam at his side.  Dean had no purpose if he was unable to care for and protect Sam. Hunting was a means to vent his dark side; act upon his homicidal urges without becoming a criminal.  Sam was his center; his moral compass, and the one life preserver to sanity when the darkness got too black.  If the Winchesters had never hunted Dean would never have fed and developed his infinity for death. The kill would have never called to him and he would have been the good man he fought to be a shadow of now.  The man he was able to be due to Sam’s influence.

 

They never discussed it. Sam wasn’t even certain Dean knew that it was a topic of discussion that _should_ be voiced.  Sam knew though; Sam knew many things that he kept inside of his own head, because Dean was fragile. There was a particular balance his brother needed to maintain in order to function in the external world of the non-hunters.  There were other things that Sam kept close to his chest as well; his love for his older brother especially.  Incest was an ugly word used for rapists related by blood. What he felt for Dean; could share with him; was love. It would be two consenting adults that were isolated and raised to trust only one another.  They were incapable of maintaining any romantic relationship with any longevity that was not generated for one another.  John had inadvertently seen to that with his paranoia and constant transient movements through life.  Sam didn’t perceive that as something horrible, but rather factual. He didn’t feel any emotion toward that concept one way or another. He reserved his feelings for Dean; his deep rooted love and affections, the sensation of belonging to no one but his older sibling. And Sam was okay with that. At Stanford he had toyed with the idea of marriage to another person that wasn’t Dean, yet in the end even that was an impossibility. Everything he loved most about Jessica, was drawn too; were all the traits and beliefs she had in common with Dean.  The parts of her that were not Dean-like, had been stumbling blocks for Sam and made their relationship volatile at times.

 

The night Dean showed up to collect Sam from his off campus dwelling, had been the end of his relationship with Jess, along with his flirtation with any kind of life outside of Dean and hunting.  He kissed Jessica on the cheek and left; only to return long enough to witness her death and disappear from the college lifestyle he had fronted.  Though mourning his loss; being on the road with Dean and spending uninterrupted hours in the Impala, infused him with new life. Allowed him to inhale after four years of holding his breath and praying no one noticed he had no idea what he was doing or how to fit in. Again at Dean’s side Sam felt invincible and calm. The first three years they were back together was like a honeymoon period where Sam was giddy and flying high on relief at being Dean’s once more.  He could see that his brother felt the same; was just as ecstatic and balanced. It was only recently that a slight strain began to show in cracks upon their surface.

 

Sam wondered if it was time to have that conversation they had always circled and never mentioned.  Maybe Dean needed to hear the words; taste Sam’s kiss and be shown that it was acceptable to touch; possess; own.  Sam was willing and understood that he would need to be the one that broached the subject: he always was. Dean was too frightened of irreparably traumatizing Sam somehow; as if **_he_** were the fragile one and not the other way around.  Sam found that quality endearing in his older brother and it brought a smile to the corner of his lips even now. Dean wasn’t looking at him but at the road, so it didn’t matter if Sam smiled.  Dean’s fingers were lightly tapping on the steering wheel in time to the melody of some light rock song he would cringe if Sam caught him singing too.  Dean might profess to only listen to five albums in his cassette collection but Sam knew the truth; he listened to a lot more music in other genres than he let on.  Sometimes Sam wondered if when he did indulge in the favorite five it was a type of meditation for him; Sam did yoga and ran, so why couldn’t Dean ‘do’ Led Zeppelin, Metallica, AC/DC, Bob Segar and Def Leppard?

 

Sam shifted a little as he watched those perfect, plush lips move, and he stretched a little. The instant he moved Dean’s mouth stilled, his eyes shooting to Sam.

 

“Sleep good, Sammy?”

 

Sam cleared his throat. “Could do with a shower and a bed, but yeah. The nap was okay.”

 

Dean snorted. “You didn’t miss anything. Just a few bible thumper and country stations. Finally, something decent on now though.”

 

Sam smirked. Foreigner was Dean’s idea of ‘decent’ were they? Sam could not prevent his smile from reaching his voice.  “Maybe that’s why I could finally sleep.”

 

Dean nodded and turned his expression back to the road. He reached out with his right hand and rested it upon Sam’s leg. The action both surprised Sam a little and thrilled him. He could feel the warmth of Dean’s palm radiating out ward up his thigh and towards his dropping stomach.  Not wishing to take the gift lightly, Sam reached down and tentatively placed his own hand upon Dean’s. Dean’s gaze remained steadfast on the access road ahead of them.

 

Definitely it was time to have that discussion. The one that began with Sam explaining that Dean’s lips were created for kissing and ended with the brothers entangled and naked in a motel bed.

 

~Fin~


End file.
